


Variations on a Dad Reveal

by rarmaster



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Gen, to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-04 11:30:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15840378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarmaster/pseuds/rarmaster
Summary: Various oneshots where Lloyd finds out much sooner than the game intended him to.





	1. because of the locket

When Dirk finds Lloyd, Lloyd is clutching something in each hand.

His mother’s exsphere in one.

His father’s locket in the other.

 

Lloyd grows up knowing his parents’ names, their faces. It’s not a lot. But it’s more than he had before. When he’s younger it doesn’t mean much to him, but when he’s older he wears the locket all the time. It’s almost like having both of his parents with him.

He memorizes their faces. Finds himself echoed in his mother’s smile. In his father’s eyes.

He wonders if they’re proud of him.

Wonders if his father’s really dead, or…

 

When the mercenary shows up to save Lloyd and his friends from a Desian much too big for them to handle, Lloyd forgets how to breathe, for a moment.

He knows this face. It’s colder, sharper than it is in the photo, but he knows it.

“Lloyd!” Genis calls, to snap him out of it. (He and Colette must know, too, because it’s not like Lloyd’s hidden the photo from them, but maybe they haven’t connected the dots yet. Or maybe they’re just better at not getting completely sidetracked in the middle of a fight.)

“Right, right,” Lloyd says, and gets to his feet to help finish the battle. The locket that hangs around his neck has never felt so heavy, so distracting.

Finally, the Desians retreat, and all that’s left is—

“Your name is Lloyd?” the mercenary asks, as soon as there is a moment to.

Lloyd nods rather than give his usual answer, because he’s too dumbstruck to do anything else. Because he knows, he can see the way his father looks winded by the realization, like he’d never expected to see his son again the same way his son had never really expected to see him.

“What’s- What’s yours?” Lloyd asks, just to be sure.

The mercenary hesitates, and then: “Kratos,” he answers.

The wind is knocked right out of Lloyd’s lungs.

“D- _Dad_?” he asks, stumbling a step forward. He can’t help himself.

“Pardon?” Kratos says.

“Oh, here, I,” Lloyd hastily reaches to his neck to yank the locket out by its chain, pulling it over his head and holding it out to Kratos by way of explanation. It’s faster.

Kratos reaches out to take the locket, and his hands tremble as he cups it in them, clicks it open. “Is that where this…” he begins, then the weight of everything else seems to hit him. “Is _this_ where you’ve been, this whole time?”

Lloyd nods, not sure how to answer otherwise. It’s a lot to take in.

“I thought for sure you were dead…” Kratos whispers.

“Honestly, I thought you were too,” Lloyd tells him.

Kratos doesn’t answer. Lloyd takes a cautious step forward, then another, then closes the distance between him and his father at a run, crashing into him and wrapping him in a hug. It takes Kratos a moment to return it, but he does, holding his son as tightly as if he were the man he used to be fourteen years ago.

(He lets Lloyd keep the locket.)


	2. because of the locket, again

Of course Raine notices the way Kratos keeps periodically gathering mana around himself—keeps pressing First Aids into his skin as he tries to mitigate whatever damage he took, apparently too proud to ask for help. Raine would press the matter, but if he wants to let his pride kill him, that’s fine by her. It’s more important to get to camp, or maybe a House of Salvation, if they’re lucky, before the latest stage of Colette’s Angel Toxicosis kicks in. If Kratos is still having difficulty then, she’ll ask.

They don’t get that far.

On the steps of the House of Salvation, Kratos collapses with no sound other than that of a large body colliding with solid ground.

Raine regrets not checking on him sooner, but what’s done is done. She focuses instead on getting him healed. She’s surprised by how serious the wound is, actually. It looks like one of Slyph’s arrows had pierced his abdomen, and it’s still raw despite all the First Aid he’s applied to it. How did he manage to _walk_ this far? Surely the pain must have been incredible! What, was he so stubborn, so prideful, he didn’t even feel it?

Honestly, Raine wouldn’t be surprised.

 

 

Somewhere in the mess of Kratos collapsing, his locket breaks. Lloyd thinks it’s probably from the impact with the ground, based on the way the metal’s all dented around the clasp, keeping it from shutting properly. It’ll take a bit of work, but Lloyd thinks he can fix it.

And since Kratos is apparently going to be unconscious for another day or two, Lloyd’s bored out of his mind, anyway. It’ll be something to do with his hands. He doubts Kratos will mind.

Lloyd is very, _very_ careful about removing the picture from the locket, so he won’t ruin it while working on repairs. He feels a little bit guilty about looking, but there’s no helping it. It’s a very nice photo of Kratos and… his wife? He thinks he remembers Kratos mentioning he had a wife, once. There’s a kid in the photo, too, which is news to Lloyd. Kratos definitely hasn’t mentioned having a _kid._

Lloyd flips the photo over once just to see if there’s anything written on the back—

His heart stops.

There’s a couple things written on the back, actually, but Lloyd zeroes-in on one word in particular so thoroughly that he barely pays attention to the rest. In clear, bold handwriting, is the name _Irving._

He blinks his eyes. Tries to focus on the rest.

 _The Irving Family,_ the writing says, and then the date.

Lloyd almost chokes on the surprise in his throat. He flips the photo back over, and he looks, he _really_ looks at it. It’s a picture of Kratos, and a woman with a smile he recognizes from the mirror. Kratos is holding a child with brown hair shaped in a familiar cowlick. That too, Lloyd recognizes from the mirror.

It’s too much to take in. Too much to deny.

Slowly, like he’s afraid of seeing an entirely new man when he looks, Lloyd lifts his gaze away from the photo and directs it to Kratos, who’s still out cold on the bed not three feet from where Lloyd stands. The realization, the reality of it, the weight—they all grip Lloyd’s heart like a vice.

Lloyd Aurion Irving might not be book-smart, but neither is he a fool.

 

 

The first thing Kratos registers when he wakes up is that his locket is missing. It’s hard not to notice the lack of familiar weight pressed against his chest, the familiar sensation of metal against his skin. A hand flies up to search for it though he already knows it is gone. He pats at his chest anyway, like he’ll be proven differently. He isn’t.

So Kratos sits up, eyes darting to the bedside table. It isn’t there either. Panic grips at his chest, because if he _lost_ that locket, if he lost it, he’s going to- he’s going to…

“Looking for this?” comes Lloyd’s voice.

Panic becomes cold despair, settling into Kratos’ stomach.

His eyes snap from the bedside table to the boy sitting in the chair beside him. Lloyd sits a little hunched over, attention not on Kratos, but on the locket in his hands. Kratos’ locket. Open. Which means—

The wind flees Kratos’ lungs.

“Lloyd,” he says, and that’s all he can think to say, all he can manage to get out.

Lloyd laughs, a kind of empty, bitter sound.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” he asks.


End file.
